


Clint 2004

by LadyAnneNeville



Series: Natasha Romanoff and the Good Guys [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Natasha Romanov, First Meetings, Gen, Hurt Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov-centric, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-06-27 17:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19795474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAnneNeville/pseuds/LadyAnneNeville
Summary: It is 2004 in a Shield cell block and Natasha, who still thinks of herself as Natalia, has just surrendered. Through the interrogation and isolation, through no fault of her own, she acquires a friend. Kind of a how Clint met Natasha story, but starting after she is in custody.This is essentially from Natalia’s point of view (she is not Natasha yet) and so there will be an unreliable narrator as years being raised and employed by the red room is not going to make anybody the most objective in normal situations.In both Civil War and Endgame it is made very clear that Natasha’s family are the avengers and that she is by far the most invested in both keeping her found family together and in the avengers as a group. I am attempting to pay tribute to that by exploring how a woman with very many walls allows herself to be vulnerable enough to let people in.





	1. Chapter 1

In the span of a week Natalia’s world had shrunk from any European or American city she might care to inhabit to a cell in the basement of a Shield facility. While on the run she had avoided Asia and Africa as her ethnicity stood out and it was harder to blend in, and Australia and New Zealand were too far away on a plane to be practical.

She didn’t even know where the facility was. The flight had been around six and a half hours from Salzburg. That knowledge told her next to nothing as she had not been given any indication as to the direction of the flight, or the speed capabilities of Shield jets.

The cell, such as it was, could be considered comfortable. There was a single bed, which in reality was more of a solid, raised step with a mattress on it. It had both a blanket and a pillow made from a foreign, high tech material, that was impossible to rip through. Besides even if she did manage to rip them into strips there was nothing she could possibly attach it too. Clearly Shield had such standard precautions in place against prisoner suicide that it wasn’t anywhere close to an outside option. She had not been able to spot any camera’s or surveillance equipment but with what she knew about shied she would be a fool to assume that meant that she wasn’t being watched.

When she had first been brought here five days ago, she had been sent through a medical scan and examination. Unusual for a prisoner but not unheard of. After it had been completed a disappointed looking Hawkeye had sat there with the doctor as she explained that cyanide capsules embedded in a molar for emergencies would go against Shield’s code of conduct and they would have to remove it. Would she prefer a local or general anaesthetic?

She chose local. She absently passed her tongue over the still sore spot at the back of her mouth where the fake tooth had been implanted.

They were not trying to torture her, at least she didn’t think they were. Solitude and sleep deprivation were the most effective and cruel torture methods ever created, as anti-climactic as they were. They also had the huge advantage of leaving no scars except the psychological. Although there were no windows in the cell the lights switched from on and bright, to a much lower night time setting, which was comfortable to sleep under. They then remained there for a solid eight-hour period. She knew how long it had been, the first night she stayed awake and counted the seconds. This happened for eight hours out of every twenty-four. At least she knew that they were not trying any psychological trickery by shortening or lengthening days artificially. She had been on both sides of that method too, and it was ever so easy to do when the captive only had access to artificial light.

She was being kept alone but she was also being brought out for a four or five hour stretch every morning. Two agents, a man and a woman named Coulson and Hill respectively asked her questions while Hawkeye lurked at the back of the interview room. It was his responsibility to walk her to and from her cell. He always smiled warmly at her when he collected her. She wasn’t sure how to respond, whether or not a smile back would be taken as an attempt at manipulation or a threat. The first day he had said some comforting words to assuage any fear she might have felt. It was a kindness but unnecessary. Shield unambiguously thought of themselves as the good guys, that meant any torture methods they used were unlikely to be as severe as her red room upbringing. Besides the fears she had had little to do with torture and more to do with the as yet unknown status of her future. Those were so deep seated that there was no possibility of a few kind words relieving them.

As it happens Hawkeye was right in his words. The interrogation sessions could have been intense and uncomfortable if she had held any interest in withholding information. Instead they were simply boring as she laid out in precise detail every red room facility she had ever been in and the dates she knew for certain her information had been valid until. Al were out of date by at least two years but that worked in her favour. Hawkeye had spared her in the moment on what felt like a whim, but if the evidence she brought them hadn’t shown a sustained pattern of behaviour over the last two years breaking up human trafficking rings, she doubted Shield would have prolonged her captivity for more than twenty-four hours before terminating her as per the original orders. She had been allowing herself to be captured by Romanian, Russian and Ukrainian gangs working out of eastern Europe to transport young women to Amsterdam, France, the UK and America against their will with their passports stolen. These young women mostly ended up working in brothels for a few years until they ended up dead. The unlucky few were sold to the very rich. All Natalia had had to do was speak the appropriate language, make the right comments about wanting to be a model, or dancer, or pop star, or actress in America, and let them take her. Then she would simply wait for the opportune moment, free the girls, and depending on whether or not they were still in the origin country, either let them go or get in touch, anonymously with Interpol or the local police. Again, depending on how honest and trustworthy the local police were. She had probably done this ten or twelve times over the last two years.

She still wasn’t certain that Shield had made the correct decision to keep her rather than execute her. She still wasn’t sure if she would have preferred Hawkeye to take the clean anonymous s shot, he had no doubt planned. She wasn’t sure of many things anymore, but she knew that if anyone merited execution then she did for the crimes she had committed while in the employ of the Red Room. For most of them she had been an adult, and entirely capable of making her own choices.

Natalia didn’t let the lack of stimulation in the cell get to her. She organised her day carefully although there was no way that she could really deviate at all from Shield’s schedule. The lights would come on and she would be escorted to the shower and watched carefully but clinically by a pair of female agents. They would be standing a safe distance away, both were armed, and she made sure to telegraph her movements and give them no reason to have itchy trigger fingers. Luckily, they didn’t seem the jumpy type. She would then be handed a fresh pair of jogging bottoms and a t-shirt with bland, utilitarian underwear. 

Natalia suspected that the daily set of fresh clothes was more for the comfort of her guards than herself, but she was thankful none the less.

Following her shower, she would be escorted back to her cell. It was always Hawkeye who did the escorting. He probably waited outside awkwardly while she was having her shower. She would at that point be served a bland but nutritious breakfast which she was allowed to eat alone with chunky, plastic, picnic cutlery. Following breakfast, she would be taken to the interrogation room. A dull and exhausting four hours would follow as she rolled on every colleague, underling, acquaintance, handler or superior officer she had ever encountered.

It was the time following the interrogation that she struggled with. Ten hours before lights out and zero stimulation.

She tried to keep herself occupied by spending a couple of hours at a time moving through a practice she had developed herself which combined elements of ballet, yoga, pilates and gymnastics. She tried to challenge herself by seeing how long she could stay in a handstand, bridge, arabesque or scorpion, her record was 12 minutes for the handstand and mainly because she had become lightheaded due to the inverted nature of the position. She tried to see how slow and controlled her return to standing could be, how carefully she could isolate every individual muscle and make the movement slow and seamless.

But there were still hours to go until lights out.

She tried meditating, and it worked, but for no more than an hour at a time, and besides she was unwilling to sink too deeply into the meditation. She didn’t trust Shield yet either.

It would be easier to manage if the interrogation had been in the middle of the day rather than first thing in the morning. But it was what it was and she was in no position to complain or make requests.

Whichever way she tried to twist it in her head the only logical solution to her emotional state was that the isolation was getting to her. Understanding this did not make the experience any easier however. Through their detached methods Shield was gradually wearing down her defences, as if that was even necessary. She had surrendered to Hawkeye with every intention of giving up every scrap of information she knew so that she might earn a second chance. She was delivering every scrap, starting with what she deemed the most important. However, when you work for an organisation for most of your life, everything you know about them becomes everything you know rather easily and it takes time to communicate that volume of knowledge.

The isolation might not even be directly aimed at impacting her mental state. It could just be the practical consideration of not wanting people to start looking at her as a person with thoughts and feelings so that it would be easier to execute her when the time came.

She had noticed that the cell was air tight and the door had a hydraulic seal. It had its own air filtration system, it looked like a small but ordinary vent, but the sound from within was different. It was a sound she wouldn’t have been able to hear if she was a baseline human, her enhancements, as low key as they were, where essential for gathering information. She deducted the reasoning behind this cell design, as it was undoubtedly more expensive than a regular cell and as far as she understood it Shield was funded by NATO, was probably so it was easy to execute prisoners with poison gas. There were several poison gasses which were relatively painless, tiredness and confusion followed by a deep unconsciousness so the pain of death was not so severe. They might even have the mercy to pump the gas in at night while she was asleep so that she never knew it was coming. That was probably the safest solution all round for their personnel. Objectively speaking.

If it was execution they had planned for her, then she hoped that was their preferred method. Thinking of the professional aura’s both Coulson and Hill had exuded, she wouldn’t be surprised if it was. They had been to the point with her, respectful in a way that nonetheless left no doubt that they were in charge, and extremely efficient of extracting relevant information. They neither seemed sadistic nor kind. Poison gas to efficiently eliminate their loose end made sense.

If she had to guess then she would say both were motivated by the desire to do good, although she did not have enough data to state that with even sixty percent certainty. They probably had a pragmatic understanding of the evils of the world, which is what led them to choose Shield methods rather than a more transparent organisation. They were probably competent killers, but careful to avoid killing unless deemed necessary by either themselves or their superiors.

As for how many superiors they had and where they were positioned within Shield, Natalia had no idea. They were clearly Hawkeye’s superiors, and probably superiors he worked with regularly based on their interactions. Shield was smart enough to keep her from witnessing interactions between Coulson and Hill and any other agent aside from Hawkeye, so it was difficult to get an accurate read on the situation and how much authority they had. They were probably of roughly equal rank to each other but beyond that she had no information on which to speculate.

Her mind again wandered to the air-tight seal on the door. Her bloodwork would have shown them that she was enhanced, but the security measures on this cell could contain someone ten times stronger than her physically. There was no option on the inside of the cell for even a tech genius to adapt to their advantage and escape. There was no option within the cell that she might have been able to use to determine her own fate should she make that choice. When she surrendered, she had not anticipate becoming quite this helpless. She had never, up until this point met a cage she couldn’t escape from, but her determination not to manipulate her captors, or seduce a guard so that she might keep the preferred option of working for Shield open, meant that there was no other way out.

It was to her great surprise that on the evening of day five, approximately four hours before lights out, she and her thoughts were interrupted by Hawkeye. He walked into the cell. She had been meditating on her bed but her heartrate skyrocketed. Was this it? Was poison gas too impersonal for Shield so they had sent Hawkeye in to do the deed himself? She would far rather not have known it was coming. She opened her eyes to greet him but otherwise remained pliant and passive. Whatever he was here to do she mustn’t fight back. Not if she wanted any possibility of a second chance with Shield.

“Hey” he said.

“Hello” she replied. She was careful to keep her voice calm and even. Awkwardness rushed in to press on the silence the wrapped around two people who were not yet friends or colleagues, but with too bizarre a connection to be considered acquaintances either.

“Thought you might like some company.” His affect was casual, but deliberately so, a less well-trained observer might not have caught it. He was carrying a flat wooden box under his left arm and she did not know what was contained within it but the way he carried himself suggested three, perhaps four concealed weapons. Were he to move more into the centre of the room so she could observe his gait, she might be able to make an accurate guess as to the location of the hiding spots.

“That would be kind, thank you.” Natalia replied, her focus on keeping her muscles and breathing calm and relaxed and keeping any tension or uncertainty from her voice.

Hawkeye beamed at her response and sat on the bed with her, his back leaning against the wall and boots draped over the edge to just scrape the floor.

“Scoot up. I need to make room for the board.” He said, and she did as she was asked. Gratefully putting the additional foot and a half of space between them as he placed the box on the bed. When he opened it up it revealed nothing more threatening than a backgammon set. Not that she wasn’t capable of killing him with such an object, or had doubts about his ability to do the same to her, the point was she wouldn’t try and if he was here to kill her he would have brought something more efficient. Besides if she did try, he was on high enough alert with sharp enough reflexes to counter any move she might make.

“You know how to play right?” He asked, she nodded in response, keeping her movements reserved and to the point.

“Good. I know chess is more traditional in these kinds of situations but I’m rubbish at it so I’m using the excuse that it’s too cliché, so backgammon it is. We’ll roll to start but I’d prefer to be right if that’s okay with you?”

“Yes. That’s fine.” Natalia replied. Luckily, he took her reticence in his stride. She was trying not to deceive him about anything except how afraid she was right now. It made it very difficult to work out the right things to say.

It turned out they were pretty evenly matched at backgammon. He won the first game and she won the second but there was no more than a move or two in it each time. They played quietly with Hawkeye making occasional comments on the number rolled, or when she took his pieces. They were intended to make her laugh but she was too tense to give a genuine response so she remained quiet, giving no more than small, tight, smiles.

It was on the third game that Hawkeye made a more direct attempt at conversation.

“I’m sure, given our professions that we have plenty of life experience in common, but I’m not sure that talking about work is what I want to do right now so I thought we could talk about movies.”

“Movies?”

“Yeah, you know, films. You have seen some movies, right? They didn’t completely deprive you of quality entertainment in the super-secret spy school where you grew up?” 

Natalia thought for a moment, trying to work out how much she could tell him.

“I have seen some movies. They used to show us American and British films when we were growing up to help us learn English.”

“Well your English is so good that if I didn’t know better, I would have thought you were a native speaker.”

“Thank you”

“So, go on, what movies did you see?”

“Bambi, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, Sleeping Beauty, The Wizard of Oz, Mary Poppins, the Sound of Music. Lots of different things.”

Hawkeye beamed at her.

“It sounds like you saw lots of Disney. Amazing. I love Disney. Did you ever see The Hunchback of Notre Dame? I loved that one.” Natasha shook her head but asked.

“Like the French novel?”

“Yeah, I think they based it on that.”

“It seems like a strange choice of source material for a children’s film.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. They changed a lot of stuff, so in the Disney Film there are singing Gargoyles for example. But it contains some of the better lessons in Disney films, things like, ‘if you feel attracted to a woman it isn’t automatically her fault’, or ‘beauty on the inside is more important than beauty on the outside’. I don’t think those concepts are ever too advanced to teach children.”

“It sounds bizarre, and nothing like the book.”

“You have a point.” A small, but this time genuine smile crossed her face for the first time since Hawkeye had walked into the room.

“So, if you haven’t seen Hunchback then have you seen Hercules? The Lion King? Mulan? The Little Mermaid? Pocahontas? Seriously you’ve never seen any of the ninety’s revival? I need to show you some of the newer Disney films. They’re pretty awesome.”

“I would like that, thank you.” Natalia replied. Silence filled the void between them yet again, but it was less tense, and less focused than it had ever been. She ventured to fill it. “So how did they end up with talking Gargoyles in a film of The Hunchback of Notre Dame”

“Okay, so you know that Quasimodo lives in the bell tower of Notre Dame cathedral in Paris? Basically, he’s the main character so he needed someone to talk to, but he’s on his own a lot, hence talking gargoyles. Kind of like how Snow White or Aurora end up talking to anthropomorphised animals.”

“You know, before they had cinema playwrights just used to give the protagonist a human friend to talk to, but that might be too old fashioned for nineties Disney.” For the first time in their conversation, Natalia allowed some of her wit to show.

“I’m pretty sure everyone needs a friend to talk to, Princess.” Hawkeye was smiling that easy smile again but any warmth she had felt at the previous conversation vanished.

“I’m no Princess.”

“Yeah, but your surname is Romanoff, like the Russian royal family, well, ex-royal family I suppose. Not to mention that you are one of the most capable, self-sufficient people that I have ever come across, and about as far from a vintage Disney princess as you can get.”

Natalia was frozen. So, Hawkeye continued, trying to placate her.

“It’s just a nickname, don’t overthink it. Anyway, you’ve won three games to my two, so I’m going to go home before my dignity is completely in tatters from losing at backgammon. This was fun. I can’t promise to be back tomorrow but we’ll do this again.” Hawkeye gathered the backgammon set and stood, stretching out his back.

“Do you have anything I can call you, apart from Hawkeye.” Natalia had been gathering courage to ask this question for days, and the phrasing was carefully formulated so as not to be a demand for his real name. Given who she was, that would almost certainly be considered a threat.

“You can call me Clint.” He said.

There was no hesitation so either he had been expecting the question or the name was a regularly used alias.

“Thank you, Clint, this was fun.”

“See you around.”

With that he was gone, and it was only an hour or so before lights out. For the first time since surrendering her entire future to Shield, Natalia allowed herself to hope in the possibility that they might let her live and do some good after all.


	2. Session 134

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An information report authored by Maria Hill. This contains a transcript of one of Natalia Romanova's interviews as well as Maria Hills comments and recommendations afterwards. It gives more of Natasha's backstory. This takes place about four months after chapter one.

Report on Prisoner Natalia Romanova, inclusive of session 134 interview transcript. 14-November-2004  
Top Secret. For the eyes of Director Nicholas Fury only.  
Author: Agent Maria Hill  
Session 134  
Interview with Prisoner Natalia Romanova- designation- Black Widow. 30-October-2004  
Session Aim: To understand the prisoner’s origins and recruitment into the Red Room program.  
Present in Room  
Agent Philip Coulson- hereafter designated P.C.  
Agent Maria Hill- hereafter designated M.H.  
Agent Clint Barton- hereafter designated C.B.  
Prisoner Natalia Romanova- hereafter designated N.R.

Transcript Begins

M.H: Do you have any memories from before you entered the Red Room?

N.R: Very few.

M.H: Do you know how you were recruited into the Red Room? How they chose you?

N.R: They said I was a survivor.

P.C: In previous interviews you stated you were a child when you entered the Red Room. How could they have determined you were a survivor a that point?

N.R: It was Soviet Russia. Survivors were obvious if you knew how to look for them.

M.H: Let’s start with the basics. Where are you from. As precisely as you can tell us.

N.R: Leningrad.

M.H: And your parents? Family? Who were they?

N.R: I do not recall ever knowing their names. I was too young to know them as anything but the standard designations children have for their parents. In the Red Room we were encouraged to see Russia as our only true parent.

M.H: You must have more information about your parents than simply the fact they were your parents and existed. Did you have any siblings? What jobs did they do?

N.R: Any and all information I have is anecdotal. The vague recollections of a young child. It cannot be verified.

P.C: We would still have the information. You have cooperated with us so far. I would advise you did not stop now.

N.R: When I was born my parents already had two sons who were nearly adults. My father was originally an academic, however after the revolution he was reassigned to factory work. That was his job during my memory of him. I believe my mother was originally an aristocrat. Her family were killed in the revolution, she escaped only because she had married my father and moved away. Her past was a closely guarded secret.

P.C: How did you go from a family home to the Red Room? Were your parents loyal to the party? Did they simply hand you over?

N.R: My family was dead when I was recruited to the Red Room.

M.H: How did that happen? You have stated in previous interviews that by your best estimate you were six or seven years old when you joined the Red Room.

N.R: My brothers I have no memories of. They joined the army and were killed by the time I was five. My parents starved to death in the siege of Leningrad.

P.C: In the siege of Leningrad. Really?

N.R: Yes.

M.H: What happened precisely?

N.R: The rationing was extreme. My father chose to give most of my rations to myself or my mother. He died within two months. He was sick when he died. It was not only starvation. There was nowhere to put the body so we left him in the bedroom and lived in the living room. My mother did not die until the New Year. She started entertaining soldiers for extra rations and fuel. Ultimately it made no difference. She still died.

M.H: Where were you while she was entertaining these soldiers?

N.R: She asked me to hide in a cupboard. Most often I went to sleep.

P.C: Where did you go when she died. Who took you in. A friend? A neighbour? A relative?

N.R: I didn’t go anywhere. I stayed in our apartment.

P.C: You were a young child. Someone must have taken care of you.

N.R: I stayed in the apartment. I became clever at stealing food, fuel and clothing. People don’t notice a child and starvation makes people slow and clumsy. I became good at searching dead bodies also.

M.H: How did you go from looting the dead to being recruited by the Red Room?

N.R: It was in the spring. I tried to steal from the wrong person. An officer of the KGB. That caught his attention. HE spoke to his companion in German and I responded to them in the same language. They then put me in a cell for some time. I do not know how long, but more than a few days. From there I was taken in a car to a building on the outskirts of Leningrad. That was how I was recruited for the Red Room.

M.H: How did you know German?

N.R: My mother taught me German and English. We spoke to each other in those languages sometimes. She stated that they were the languages she had spoken in to her mother and sisters.  
M.H: How do you know this event was after the siege had ended.

N.R: To them I was nothing but a young thief. Had it been in the winter they would not have bothered with prison, there was no food to spare for prisoners. They would simply have shot me.

P.C: I think that is sufficient for this session. Escort Ms Romanova back to her cell, please, Agent Barton.

C.B: Yes sir.

Transcript Ends.

Report 1-November-2004

As with previous interviews, N.R. seems to have enhanced aging and possibly other enhancements. She seems unaware of this, and has only very sparse knowledge of Russian history and dates. This ignorance is probably a deliberate tactic from her training in the Red Room. We believe that N.R. was probably born in 1934 or 1935, although as yet we have no specific date. From our own records, we believe the Red Room was first active in Russia in the late 1920’s, from Howard Stark and Margaret Carter’s encounter with one of their trainees. It does not seem unlikely that they took advantage of the war to choose possible candidates from unattached female children.

Barton has been given instructions to injure N.R. in sparring, preferably a broken bone so that we can assess the rate of healing.

More research will be done to establish N.R.’s provenance

Addendum 10-November-2004  
Barton was successful in his assignment. N.R. cracked two ribs on her left side on November 2nd. She was seen by medical immediately and scans were taken twice daily to establish the rate of healing. They were fully healed as of this morning. N.R. has significantly enhanced healing, although still inferior to the reported rate of healing that Captain America had. In previous interviews N.R. informed us that medical procedures and experiments were common in the Red Room. I believe that she was administered an imperfect version of Erskine’s serum whilst in the Red Room, which would account for these enhancements. N.R. was fully cooperative for medical, however, readings of her vital signs when she was being examined were indicative of panic, stress and anxiety. It is probable that she has some level of PTSD which should be treated by a therapist before she is given clearance to become a Shield Agent.

Addendum 13-November-2004  
After research, a suitable candidate for N.R.’s family was found. A few photographs were located and N.R. confirmed the identity of her parents. Pietro and Maria Sokolov.   
Ivan Sokolov was born in 1895. His father was an academic and his mother a musician. He completed a PhD in Philosophy at the University of St Petersberg. He became a professor of the university in 1915. This professorship was short lived as his academic papers tended towards centerist politics, which dissented from the view of the Bolsheviks. He was assigned to the army in late 1917. We were unable to find a record of his deployment. In 1919 he was assigned to a work detail in a factory. At this point he had married Maria. They had two sons in 1920, Alexandre and 1922, Vasili. Both parents worked, Maria as a kindergarten teacher and Pietro continued in the factory. By 1925 he had been assigned to an administrative role. Both Alexandre and Vasili joined the Russian army when war broke out in June 1941. They were killed in action in August.

Both Maria and Ivan Sokolov’s names are among the list of the dead in the Siege of Leningrad, as is their daughter Olga. I believe that Olga is N.R. and they simply renamed her at the Red Room.

Maria’s background is more complicated. Her papers indicate she was born Maria Petrov on 25-June-1899 in Uglich. While there were three Petrov families living in Uglich at the time, none had a daughter on this date. From N.R.’s account Maria was born an aristocrat who spoke German and English with her mother, whose family were killed in the revolution. Both from this and from striking similarities in the photo’s we have found. I believe that Maria Petrov was in fact Maria Romanoff, one of the Tzarina’s. The body of one of the daughters, most likely Maria, and Alexei have never been found. Eyewitness accounts record the fact that both Maria and Anastasia survived the initial shooting of the Royal Family. And Maria’s date of birth was 26-June-1899. In addition to this the Tsarina’s reportedly only spoke German and English with the Empress Alexandra, as her Russian was notoriously poor. It was reported that Maria was flirty with the soldiers who worked at the compound. I believe that Ivan was one of those soldiers and that he rescued her after the event of the shooting.

According to N.R. they were assigned surnames on graduation from the Red Room, which for N.R. would be in the early 1950’s. It is my belief that one of the trainers at the Red Room came to the same conclusion as me and gave N.R. the name Romanova in full knowledge of this. I also think it very unlikely that this information would have been passed back to the Kremlin, as N.R. would most likely have been disposed of if that had been the case. I therefore conclude that this information was discovered after N.R. had shown significant potential in the Red Room.

Addendum 14-November-2004  
DNA results confirm both N.R’s enhancement and her genetic similarity to the Russian Royal Family.  
Recommendations 14-November-2004  
It is my recommendation that we ensure N.R. has full knowledge of her enhancements and that we work with her in training to better understand her limits and abilities so that she can be used to her fullest potential if she should become an Agent in the future.  
It is also my recommendation that the information about N.R’s family should be classified immediately as need to know. This should not be shared with N.R. She showed no emotion or attachment when discussing her family, and this knowledge could be interpreted by N.R. as a lead to pursue. We should let the past remain the past.

Response from Director Nicholas Fury  
Read and Understood. This report is now fully classified and it’s contents should only be shared between myself, Agent Maria Hill and Agent Philip Coulson.   
Bury this, Agent.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hoping to make this a series expanding on her meeting and relationships with Phil Coulson, Maria Hill and Nick Fury, and later on Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Laura Barton (and kids), Sam Wilson and Bruce Banner. I cannot promise to write all of them but some of them have been started, and some planned out. However I'm not sure whether or not people would be interested in this so please let me know in the comments what you thought about this story and if you think it is worth me continueing.


End file.
